Holy Mañana

Everything smaggle-spratted

Along that blessed lane of

Crazy eyes and goner real estate

With the running girl, running mad,

Running in circles

With her hair following behind

In a close second

While the father of someone who you used to forget

Digs his life and digs out a grave

For himself

In the day after day after day

To the monster purr

Of a motorcycle

Then stops to watch

The little boy skate by

With baseball bat ski poles

That carry him through the floating years

Of hooligan smiles

And ice cream pie rewards

For a good deed well done

Before the tugboat flies

And the fireworks shower ashes

Upon them all.